The Rush of the Wind
by chiriruoni
Summary: As Charlotte E. Yeager's retirement nears, she is forced into a rather odd "choice" of retirement venue. Whether she accepts her new lot in life or not, she'll have to address the fact that war is knocking on her new home's doorstep. The 1st Tristain Witch Squadron is born.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: And now it's time for something I have yet to see. A Strike Witches x FoZ crossover. Here we have some AU FoZ, where Louise isn't the void mage, Henrietta's father isn't dead, and the other countries are over all more dickish than usual. Enjoy.

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><p>Liberion, somewhere off the Eastern Seaboard<p>

This is what she lived for. The hum of engines, the rush and whistle of the wind, and the adrenaline high. If she could Flight Lieutenant Charlotte E. Yeager, Shirley to her friends, would never retire. She would forever be the Queen of Speed, continuing to push her Striker Units to their limits and not so gently beyond. Yet, such a day that she must hang up her goggles and turn in her Striker would be inevitable. She wasn't stupid, having turned nineteen months ago she noticed the signs. The life of a Strike Witch is taxing, her magic was finally giving out as she got closer to her 'expiration date'. She had already put in the paperwork for retirement and asked to take her beloved 'Merlin' Striker Unit out for one final sortie.

"We had a good run buddy," she glanced at her Striker with a smile.

Adjusting her goggles and tightening her scarf, Shirley shifted her flight path to face south. Her route would hug the eastern seaboard of Liberion into sub-tropical waters. Increasing the flow of magic to her Striker, she began her acceleration. The hum got louder, the wind more violent, her smile that much wider. Her rabbit ears had since been pushed straight back, the hair that now reached the small of her back threatened to break free from bands that restricted it into a pony tail.

_'More...more...faster...,'_ her internal mantra had almost become manic.

She forced her innate ability 'Speed Boost' activate. The surge of power coursed through the Striker Unit, every parameter raised, each component that much more efficient. Shirley felt the drain on her energy, faint but there. Something that she never truly felt, but only acknowledged in the academic sense when she was younger.

Once more she pushes another boost. Her peripheral vision starting to narrow.

_'Again!'_ Another push.

_'AGAIN!'_ The Striker engines whined as they kept pace.

_'AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN!' _A rapid series of boosts caused the Striker to sputter a moment, briefly slowing, before taking a sudden burst of speed that almost took the young woman by surprise.

She continued to accelerate on the energy of her boosts, with each passing second mounting more and more anticipation onto her. A wicked smile stretch across her face as she neared her goal once more...

**BOOM~**

...the sound barrier was once again broken by Shirley. Using only her modified P-51D Mustang model Striker, a prop style unit, and her own power to make up the difference.

Her voice was lost to the wind, though it was evident to any that could see that she was consumed by a fit of laughter. Tears threatened to stream from her eyes behind her goggles, out of joy rather than the wind or pressure.

_'This...this is what I've lived for. I'll miss it,' _she thought, fanning her arms out as though they were wings.

She allowed herself to decelerate ever so slowly.

_'I suppose I should head back now,'_ her manic smile slowly changed to a wistful smile of recollection and acceptance.

**BOOM~**

Much louder, this boom caused her ears to ache, and a lens from her goggles cracked.

_'What was THAT!?'_

Confused, Shirley frantically looked around as her periphery slowly returned to normal. She found herself surrounded by deep gray clouds.

_'Did I find a new Neuroi nest? No, couldn't be, I'm too close to the Liberion HQ. Someone would have noticed well before I would,'_ worried, Shirley checked her radio earpiece.

Static.

_'That's not good, now I really have to high-tail it back, I'l need to report this!'_

Just as she started a banking turn, another boom rocked against her. This time it was followed by a sound that caused her stomach to drop and heart to skip a beat. The crack and slow sputtering of her left Unit. Taking a brief second to glance back, she noticed black smoke billowing from the sparking mess.

Another boom , this time closer to a quick series of pops, disoriented her. Shaking her head and slapping her own face to force herself to recover allowed herself only a fraction of a second to raise a shield as she barreled uncontrollably towards a large green disc.

_'Oh SHI-!'_

And then everything was dark...for a couple seconds.

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><p>Tristania, Henrietta's private garden<p>

"Your Highness, are you sure you want to go through with this? Your mother and father won't like this, not to mention the Cardinal certainly won't approve," Agnes followed her charge, just a few steps behind and to the right.

"Yes, I know this is selfish of me, but...," Henrietta stopped near the center of her garden, just outside her private quarters.

She struggled internally with this for days, if not weeks. Time and again, her requests to perform the summoning ritual were rebuffed. Normally a royal wouldn't bother, as in Tristain it was tradition, perhaps even an unwritten rule for one in such a position to go without a familiar. Though there was no actual reason preventing it. It was not for her position she desired a familiar, but rather her loneliness. For reasons beyond her grasp, she has been hidden away as if she were a shameful secret. She believed it was due to her magic that they refused to talk about, which as of yet refused to be classed by an element, even the most basic spells backfiring violently. Thus, she was denied nearly all interactions beyond that of the commoner help and her personal guard, Agnes, and the 'pet' group of musketeers. A token acknowledgment at best, as much as she wouldn't mind a friendship with Agnes, the woman took her position much to seriously. Always deferring, never questioning, keeping Henrietta as a respectful arms length. It was suffocating.

This was why, Henrietta was willing to break the rules and defy the wishes of her parents and even the church. She no longer wished to cry herself to sleep at night, desperately wishing to return to the brief days she spent with her childhood friend from the Valliere estate. She desired friendship, affection, even love, so long as it was unconditional and independent of her station. Henrietta greatly hoped a familiar could provide that, even if she summoned a lowly mouse. She'd possibly settle for an insect if it could love.

"...this is something I have to do, Agnes, I just have to," Henrietta sniffled, drawing a worried look from her steward.

"I understand," Agnes bowed her head, pulled a piece of chalk from a pouch at her side and handing it to the Princess.

"Thank you, Agnes," the Princess nodded in appreciation, taking the chalk.

Henrietta began the painstaking process of drawing the summoning circle, whispering prayers to herself as she worked. Agnes settled herself down on a nearby bench to watch the teen royal. For as much she disliked mages, and by extension nobility, Agnes just couldn't find it in herself to be anything less than cordial to the girl. In actuality, her heart bled for the Princess, though whether for fear of being punished by those above them or an over developed sense of propriety, she would never give the poor thing the hug she believed she deserved.

"There, just as a memorized," Henrietta stood straight, dusting off her sun dress.

Pulling out her wand from somewhere in the dress, where exactly Agnes could never figure out, she stepped back off of the summoning circle. Taking a deep breath to calm herself and closing her eyes, Henrietta held her arms stretched forwards with her left hand held palm facing the sky and her right hand holding the wand as an orchestral conductor would. She began her chant, though it seemed more like a prayer, in a low whisper.

"My familiar, my companion and friend. My consort and confidante. I ask you to reveal yourself, that you may be blessed and myself blessed in turn. From the reaches of this world and beyond, I beg thee, come," the area surrounding the circle darkened and the circle itself seemed to come to life with a blue glow, swirling around as Henrietta completed the summoning rite.

At first nothing happened but the eerie glow, but a sudden explosion sent Henrietta sprawled on her back as dirt, dust, and debris were launched into the air. A quick succession of pops and bangs followed, accompanied by a high pitches whine. As well as screaming. Henrietta made to stand before being tackled by Agnes.

"Princess get down!" Agnes yelled as something flew over their heads, parting the dust but trailing black smoke. The screaming ended when the 'something impacted the ground and tumbled across and over the barriers of the terraced earth that made up the garden, before finally coming to a stop down below on the grounds the musketeers trained.

"W-what was that?" Henrietta stuttered.

"I...don't know...," Agnes pulled out her flintlock pistol as she helped the Princess to her feet.

The duo made their was to the now broken barrier, observing the massive scar in the earth left in the wake of...whatever that was. Looking past the barrier they seen that the entirety of the musketeers have already surrounded the crater, muskets and pistols drawn and aimed. What was contained in the crater was obscured from view. They decided to save time by climbing down the torn up terrace rather than going through the castle itself.

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><p>Shirley woke up coughing. She willed her magic to go dormant, in hopes that any further damage to her Striker could be prevented. Struggling to remove the broken goggles so that she may see once more, she found that not only had her Strike Unit somehow embedded itself into the ground she felt several hard objects poking at her chest and head, forcing her to remain on her back. Slowly moving the goggles to her forehead she came face to face with what looked like an antique muzzle loading musket. Scanning left and right she seen that those objects from earlier were in fact more muskets...some of which have bayonets fixed.<p>

_'Seriously? Muskets?'_ Shirley held back a giggle, _'easy girl, they could still put rather nasty holes in you, not to mention those bayonets look very...sharp.'_

"State your name and affiliation! Trespassing on castle grounds is cause for arrest itself, but property damage and endangering royalty...," the foremost 'musketeer' growled.

_'Belgican? Did I somehow land in Belgica? Thank you Air Corps instructors for insisting I learn multiple languages,' _Shirley tensed under the hostile glare of the musketeers and the glimmer of polished gunmetal.

"WAIT! Stand down please! Let me through!" Someone from behind the crowd yelled.

"Princess, hold on, whatever it is might be hostile!" Another voice countered.

"I don't care, I summoned it, so it should be fine," the voice was revealed to be a young woman with purple hair, a pale blue sun dress, with a tiara perched on her head.

Shirley was unsure how to respond to being called an it or the look the young woman gave her.

_'Wait...summoned?' _Shirley blinked in confusion as the muskets were pulled back.

None of the musketeers let down their guard, the newly arrived musketeer behind the 'Princess' even more so. After a moment of silent confusion and staring between the 'Princess' and Shirley, the young royal shook her head, smiled, and held out a hand towards the downed Witch.

"I'm Henrietta de Tristain, this is Agnes, captain of the musketeer corps, we mean you no harm...right?" Henrietta turned her head to Agnes, annoyance thinly veiled behind her smile.

Agnes snorted, placing her pistol into its holster, signaling the musketeers to stand down as well. She noted this, woman, that was stuck in the ground at least didn't seem hostile much to her relief. Though the fact she looked foreign didn't really sit well with her.

"Ah, Charlotte E. Yeager, a pleasure," Shirley let out a nervous laugh as she grabbed the Henrietta's hand.

After being aided out of the ground, Shirley straightened out her uniform, taking stock of her possessions. On her belt she held her trusty Bowie knife to her left, and an engraved M1911 pistol to her right, a gift from Lucchini upon hearing of Shirley's impending retirement. Her uniform, while dirty, was still serviceable, though her goggles have seen better days. Snapping her fingers as though remembering something important, she lifted up the bottom of her uniform. Letting out a sigh of relief she nodded.

_'Yup, still there, white and clean,'_ Shirley thought.

'WOMAN! HAVE YOU NO DECENCY!?" Agnes yelled.

Lifting her face, Shirley noticed Agnes had covered her blushing face with a hand while the other musketeers turned away nervously. Henrietta stood in stunned silence.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Shirley tilted her head.

Taking a moment to look around further, she noticed something she hadn't expected. Everyone was wearing pants, skirts, or in Henrietta's case, a long sun dress.

"Oh..."

_'Well, this is new. Since when did people get flustered over typical Witch attire?'_

Slowly the gears began to turn. Muskets, a Princess, Tristain,...pants...

"WHERE THE HELL AM I?" Shirley held her head in both hands, ruffling her hair in frustration.

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><p>Within Henrietta's private quarters, an ornate and spacious room connected to the now ruined garden, sat three women drinking tea. Well, two were drinking tea, the third was toying with odd foreign weapons.<p>

"So, in summary, I've been summoned via magic to what is quite possibly another world. Specifically to Tristain, a small country surrounded on all sides by other nations that may or may not desire to annex if not outright conquer it should the opportunity arise. Summoned so that I may be a 'familiar' to you, Henrietta de Tristain, a Princess of said country that you share your namesake with. And nothing like what I've described as Witches exists here...Am I right on all of this?" Shirley said in a monotone, sipping at her tea.

"Y-yes, quite. Um, you seem to be taking this a bit too well, are you alright Miss Yeager?" Henrietta furrowed her brow, giving Shirley a nervous smile.

"Please, call me Shirley. And Agnes, would you kindly hit me on the back of my head?" Shirley asked.

Agnes absentmindedly obliged, causing Shirley to slam face first into the table.

"Ah, damn, did I really do that?" Agnes looked up from the Liberion-made pistol with a look of worry and guilt.

"Oh, it's alright, I'm fine...shit so I'm not dreaming then," Shirley lifted her head, sporting a rather modest nose bleed.

Henrietta jumped to her feet and pulled out a handkerchief , using it to staunch Shirley's bloodied nose.

"AH! Agnes, really? ...I really wish I could just heal this with magi...," Henrietta whined.

Agnes looked down to the Liberion's gun sheepishly.

"H-honestly, I doubt I could get used to your odd magic if you could use it. It would be just too different from what is common back home," the Liberion Witch idly rubbed her nose.

"Well, how you describe your Witches would be absolutely blasphemous to us, if we didn't believe you anyway," Henrietta said as she sat once more in her seat.

"But, do you really believe me?"

"The fact you showed up by crash landing those...machines...and these weapons being far more advanced than anything in Halkegenia right now, well, we'd be fools to dismiss your story outright. You're certainly no elf, even if your magic seems close to Ancient Magic. And it isn't as if anyone really understands how the Summoning Ritual works anyway," Agnes said, yelping when she pinched a finger in the ejection port when she accidentally let the sliding mechanism go.

"Ah, so are you sure there isn't a way to send me back?" Shirley asked, turning back to Henrietta.

Henrietta simply shook her head, a face ridden with guilt presented to Shirley. The Witch simply sighed.

"So much for my planned retirement," she turned to face Agnes who was currently sucking on her finger, cursing silently at the pistol, "I suppose I'll take your offer to be one of your musketeers, even if it is just for looks."

Agnes nodded.

"I'll get you fitted for a uniform then," Agnes said, an amused smile creeping on her face.

"Aww, do I have to wear the pants too?"

Agnes frowned, she didn't want a musketeer running around in her panties.

"How about I just wear a lengthened top, it'll kinda be like a skirt," Shirley pleaded.

"Ugh, fine, I'll allow it," Agnes threw her arms to the air.

Standing from her seat, Agnes gave a salute to Henrietta before exiting the room quietly.

"Phew, bullet dodged there, those pants look way too uncomfortable," Shirley laughed, scratching at the back of her head.

Henrietta sipped at her tea, which was growing cooler.

"Why DO you dress like that anyway?" The Princess asked.

"Oh, it's for efficiency's sake. The Striker Units, er, the machines I had to dig out of the yard back there, require as much skin contact as possible to run properly. Oh hey, this stuff is good!" Shirley answered as she begun to stuff her face with a pastry she didn't recognize.

"I...see...," Henrietta said weakly as she took in the sight of the woman scarfing down the pastries greedily.

"So, anything in particular we need to do for this 'familiar' thing?" Shirley waved an arm for emphasis.

"Ah haha, well..."

_'Oh my...,'_ Henrietta remembered the most common way of sealing a familiar contract.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: From here on, I'm thinking of allowing for submissions for Musketeers. In a sense this fic will end up OC heavy, though entirely in the form of secondaries within the Musketeer Corps, since in the anime at least they are treated as nameless mooks (not sure about the novels, never had the opportunity to read them). If anyone decides to submit any and I choose to use them, you'll get a nice lil' mention in the author's notes in chapter they first appear in...and some internet cookies. Just keep them FoZ lore safe.

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><p>Henrietta was at a loss. Her mind simply kept going around in circles as she tried to think of a way passed the typical binding rite. All the alternatives were actually MORE invasive, embarrassing, or even outright painful. Seriously, who in their right mind would use the blood binding, which involved the use of various blades and was borderline heretical. Or the Tantric Rituals, what sicko came up with those? Swallowing her pride and suppressing the lump in her throat Henrietta braced herself to answer Shirley's question.<p>

"U-um, the easiest and quickest way to complete the b-binding rite i-is...," Henrietta slouched a bit, nervously toying with the fabric of her dress.

"Iiiiisss...what?" Shirley tilted her head and placed her hands on her hips.

"A-a...kiss...on the lips...," the Princess blushed.

As if on cue, images of Prince Wales flooded her mind. Of the time she spent with him during the few times he was able to visit Tristain.

"K-kyaa!" Henrietta's hands raced to her rapidly flushing cheeks as she thought of the racy things they did together... well, racy for the age they were when they did them.

"Oh...kay..., you alright there?" Shirley quirked a brow.

_'Now, isn't she a piece of work. Getting flustered over such a thing, though I somehow get the idea she isn't quite in the here and now. So, a contract sealed with a kiss, eh? What would Lucchini do?'_ A mischievous grin quickly flashed on Shirley's face before being replaced by a sincere and innocent smile, _'Oh, Lucchini would have a field day...this should be fun.'_

"Well, we can't help it can we? Might as well get it over with, right?" Shirley shrugged in mock defeat.

"Ah, oh, right...um...here I go then. My name is Henrietta de Tristain. Pentagon of the five elemental power; bless this humble being, and make her my familiar," Henrietta completed the chant and lean close to Shirley's face, eyes closed.

"Heh," Shirley grinned before mashing her lips against Henrietta's.

_'W-what? T-t-tongue!? Not even Wales...,'_ Henrietta's eyes shot open in surprise.

The Princess weakly attempted to pull away, only to find that Shirley had her firmly in her grasp. Henrietta couldn't help but let out short and muted moans as she melted into Shirley's relentless 'assault'.

_'Aaaand, now for the coup de grace, the Lucchini special!'_ Shirley could imagine her overly affectionate friend's cheers.

Pulling away for a fraction of a second, Shirley renewed the kiss, this time allowing her magic to immerge.

"mmm...MMMMFFH!?" Henrietta felt a sudden surge of energy flow from Shirley, the poor Princess nearly lost consciousness in pleasure.

The Princess slumped forward into Shirley's arms.

"T-too much?" The Liberion Witch voiced in genuine surprise.

"Eh hee...," Henrietta fought the sudden urge to sleep from the 'afterglow'.

Shirley felt a sudden warmth run down her right leg...the leg that was currently between the Princess's.

"AHK! Definitely too much!" Shirley yelled as she held the slightly out of it Henrietta away from her body.

"S-since when did you have cute bunny ears...?" Henrietta absently asked.

"Uh..."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER HIGHNESS!?" A shocked Agnes screamed from the doorway, dropping the uniform she had fetched for Shirley, she now had a hand on her pistol.

"Uh...becoming her familiar?" One of Shirley's rabbit ears twitched.

The tense situation was quickly defused when Shirley felt a sudden burning sensation on her left hand. The sensation quickly became intense enough for the Witch to faint from pain induced shock, collapsing backward, dragging Henrietta with her.

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><p>"Uuugh, what happened?" Shirley tried to sit up, the back of her head aching.<p>

Rubbing the back of her head, her vision began to return to her. She was laid out on a rather ornate and luxurious bed, in a room that wasn't quite familiar.

_'Oh...right, summoned, crashed, kiss, burning hand...yeah." _

"Welcome back to the land of the living Shirley," Henrietta said.

She was seating beside Shirley in a chair pulled from the desk with a vanity mirror on the wall nearest the head of the bed. She no longer wore the blue sun dress, but instead a pale white night-gown. Her jeweled tiara was placed on said desk alongside Shirley's pistol, knife, and uniform which was crumpled in a casket with the Princess's sun dress...

_'My uniform? What?'_

Shirley quickly threw off the blanket covering her to reveal that she wore a night-gown identical to Henrietta's. Shifting her legs notified her that her panties must have been placed with her uniform, the draft being a rather obvious tell.

"Uh...did you...?" The Liberion pointed at herself.

"Sorry, we kind of made a mess of ourselves, I asked Agnes to get you changed while I bathed," Henrietta lightly blushed as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Oh? Agnes did?" Shirley turned to find Agnes seated opposite the Princess on the other side of the bed

Agnes didn't look Shirley in the eyes, instead opting to cover her own blushing face with her left hand as she leaned her elbows on her knees.

"How long was I out for?" Shirley threw her legs off the side of the bed, standing by Henrietta.

"Several hours...four..maybe five, I lost track as I was contemplating stabbing you in your sleep," Agnes said in a monotone.

"AGNES!" The Princess yelled.

"Your Highness, she sexually assaulted you! Why are you defending her? Why did I have to...undress her?" Agnes waved her arms wildly at Shirley.

"Because, she didn't assault me, that was the Binding Rite. Albeit, a much more intense one than I expected, but the runes are testament to it," Henrietta said with a note of finality before turning away and speaking in a hushed tone, "it wasn't like I didn't enjoy it anyway..."

"Huh?" Agnes and Shirley tilted their heads in unison.

"N-nothing! Agnes, please take Shirley to the bath and get her some dinner. Then we can call it a night."

Looking to each other, Agnes and Shirley sigh in defeat.

"Well, lead the way," Shirley motioned to the door.

Agnes grunted in displeasure as she opened the door.

"Wait...where AM I going to sleep?" Shirley asked, turning her head to face Henrietta.

"Why, here of course," Henrietta said matter of factually.

To the statement Agnes' jaw dropped.

"Oh, get over it Agnes, I'm assigning her as my bodyguard alongside you. In fact you can stay here as well if it makes you feel better. I certainly wouldn't mind the company," she smiled innocently.

Slowly Agnes turned to Shirley, pointing a shaky finger at her.

"I'm watching you...," the musketeer ground out.

Shirley gulped audibly.

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><p>Agnes managed to sneak Shirley into a private bath without incident. It wouldn't do to raise suspicion before she was officially 'recruited' into the musketeers. The following meal of bread and meat and vegetable stew was standard fair for members of the musketeer troop, though it certainly didn't compare to Yoshika's cooking back in the old 501st. Shirley actually felt herself become a bit misty eyed at the memories.<p>

"What's your problem?" Agnes rudely smacked Shirley's shoulder.

"Ah? Oh, just reminiscing," Shirley pushed the now empty bowl away, straightening the borrow gown as she stood.

"Ha, homesick already? Wouldn't last a day in the military," the musketeer scoffed.

The Liberion witch narrowed her eyes as Agnes turned her back to her. Once more a mischievous grin was plastered on Shirley's face.

_'Wouldn't last in the military eh?'_

She pounced on the unsuspecting musketeer, pulling an arm behind the back into a submission hold she learned from Mio. The pain caused Agnes to follow the momentum, bringing her to her toes and arching her back towards Shirley. Agnes yelped as she struggled to twist free when Shirley decided to draw her close. Shirley leaned her chin on Agnes shoulder.

"Flight Lieutenant Charlotte E. Yeager, United States of Liberion Army Air Corps, Eighth Air Force Elite Corps, 357th Air Combat Group, 363rd Fighter Squadron...at your service," Shirley purred her military affiliation into Agnes ear, causing her to shiver.

Making her point, Shirley released a stunned Agnes and simply smiled.

"D-damnit, I admit that remark was uncalled for, so just, don't do that again," Agnes shivered again.

_'It makes me uncomfortable, and not just because of the pain. Shit, Agnes, don't prove those rumors people are spreading right,'_ Agnes gave an appraising look at Shirley, receiving a wink in return, _'OH son of a-!'_

"Come on, lets head back to Henrietta's room, today has been too much for me as it is. I need the sleep," she said, massaging her forehead.

Interlocking her hands behind her head, Shirley nodded in agreement as she let out an unstifled yawn.

"How, uncouth..."

Shirley found the walk back rather awkward, since Agnes didn't talk and simply walked at a measured and purposeful pace. She tried to occupy her mind by observing her surroundings. The architecture wasn't all that different from some of the old castles in Gallia, Romagna, or even Britannia. Though it was much more opulent, since this castle was still being used, unlike those back home. However, a castle is no engine, and couldn't really hold her attention no matter how interesting the construction. Before long he eyes drifted back to her escort and soon to be 'superior officer'.

Agnes had changed out of her normal musketeer uniform into what Shirley guessed would be their variation of casual dress. A white tunic with blue trim and a fleur de lis embroidered over her left breast coupled with loose fitting white pants and soft bottomed leather shoes that made a soft patting sounds rather than a tap. Lingering a moment at Agnes' breasts, Shirley concluded that Lucchini and Yoshika would indeed approve. Wandering down to Agnes' bottom, she found that it was well shaped, perhaps lean and toned from her work. This time she hummed her own personal approval.

"What?" Agnes looked to the side at Shirley.

"Oh? Nothing, just admiring the scenery," Shirley shrugged.

Agnes narrowed her eyes, but pursued the subject no further. Finally reaching Henrietta's room, the musketeer knocks on the door gently.

"Come in," Henrietta called from inside.

Entering the room, the duo was greeted by an excited Henrietta. She sat on her bed, back to the head-board and hugging a large pillow with a large smile on her face. Looking around, Agnes suddenly felt nervous.

"Your Highness? Where are the cots I placed in here?" Agnes asked.

"I got rid of them."

"Why?"

Henrietta brought a finger to her lips in thought.

"Well, you don't need them, because we'll all be sharing my bed, it'll be just like a sleep over," she replied in a completely innocent but excited tone.

"P-princess, you're not a child anymore!"

"I know, but I've never had the opportunity. Don't deny me this Agnes, please," Henrietta hid a pout behind her pillow, her eyes alone were enough to melt anyone's heart.

Even Agnes'.

"Ugh, fine," Agnes slumped in defeat, ignoring Shirley's snort behind her.

"Good! Now, come. You can sleep on this side," the Princess patted to the space on her left.

The unenthused Agnes complied, awkwardly slipping under the covers beside Henrietta. Her discomfort obvious to any but the Princess herself.

"And, you can sleep here," this time patting to her right.

Closing the door behind her, Shirley shrugged as she too slipped under the covers.

"Hee, well, good night you two," Henrietta giggled as she snuffed the magic lamps of her room, bathing it in darkness.

Only a scant few minutes passed before Shirley realized that the anxiety of sleeping in an unfamiliar place would prevent her from readily falling asleep. Hoping that light conversation may ease her mind, she takes a breath before trying to speak.

"ZZZZNNRRRRK!"

"…..."

"ZZZZNNRRRRK!"

"She's already dead to the world and snores like a beast, wow," Shirley whispered.

"Hey, don't talk about the Princess like that!" Agnes whisper yelled.

Shirley shifted her head to see that Agnes had propped herself up on her elbows and was giving her a death stare.

"You know, I wonder just what has got you so hostile towards me."

Agnes huffed, letting herself fall back to her previous position.

"You caused a lot of property damage that I had to take the blame for. At the same time you endangered the Princess. Th-then, worst of all, I walk in on you k-kissing her so...lewdly!" Agnes growled.

"THAT'S what you find the worst? What are you? Jealous? I could give you one just like that if you'd like, I wouldn't mind. In fact, I could probably make this one even better," Shirley laughed softly.

"..."

"You thought about it didn't you?" Shirley grinned.

_'Gotcha!'_

Agnes hurriedly shuffled to her side, facing away from Henrietta and Shirley.

"S-shut up and go to sleep. I have to introduce you to the Musket Corps tomorrow!"

_'Oh, this is going to be fun. Screw retirement, this is just awesome. Shame none of the 501st are here, they'd get a kick out of this too, especially Lucchini or maybe Erica too.'_

Shirley later fell asleep to the loud rhythmic snoring of Henrietta and thoughts of Agnes' firm buttocks in her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This took longer than I thought it would, but I'm rather happy with it. In other news, I'll be moving cross country in about a month, so if my other fanfics aren't updated by new years it may be at least another month or two before I'll have access to my own computer and working internet so I could actually work on them.

* * *

><p>Shirley struggled against the urge to wake as sunlight crept across her face. Shielding her face with her right hand, she squinted and blinked rapidly at the brightness.<p>

_'Ugh, might as well,'_ Shirley shifted forward, leaning on her elbows.

Momentarily disoriented at the somewhat unfamiliar surroundings she flinched as she finally remembered the previous days events.

_'Ah, right. The weirdness, a screwed up retirement, and a nice ass.'_

Stifling a yawn she looks down to her left to find the space Henrietta once took up was empty, yet just beyond lay a peacefully sleeping Agnes, curled up in a ball facing the center. Quirking an eyebrow, Shirley had a brilliant idea, or at least she thought it was and several of her friends may have agreed.

Shifting closer to Agnes, Shirley laid down on her side facing the unsuspecting Chevalier. Slowly weaving the fingers of her right hand with that of Agnes' left, the Liberion did her best to put on a dreamy, satisfied look on her face. At the sudden movement and sensations Agnes stirred, mumbling as she slowly opened her eyes.

"Good morning love, you were wonderful last night," Shirley whispered in as sweet a voice she could manage.

Agnes froze in place, her eyes slowly widening and her mouth opening in mortified shock.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-...," Agnes started to lose color in her face.

At first only Shirley's mouth twitched, followed by a snort that she failed to hold back, and then she finally lost composure.

"Pfff-hahaha! Th-that look on your face! It's PRICELESS!" Shirley couldn't hold back her laughter any longer.

Her bout of laughter, however, was cut short by a swift and hard punch to the gut that forced Shirley back enough to plummet off the edge of the bed.

"I swear! Why do I have to deal with a...," Agnes trailed off into a mumble as she swung her legs off the other side of the bed to stand.

"Well, well, you two are quite lively this early aren't you?" The cheery voice of Henrietta drew the attention of the two women.

Shirley coughed up a strained laugh as she let herself sprawl out on the floor, clutching her stomach. Agnes continued to mumble as she dressed herself behind the bed.

Henrietta was seated at the desk nearby. She wore a violet sleeveless cotton dress that reached her ankles and seemed to have been in the process of brushing her hair when Shirley's antics caught her attention.

"Sorry about the ruckus, I just couldn't help myself. Agnes's reactions are just too good to pass up," Shirley said as she pulled herself off the floor, earning a growl from Agnes.

"I must agree," Henrietta giggled, causing Agnes to give her an incredulous look, "but please, behave yourself when she introduces you to the Musketeers."

"Ah, yes ma'am!" Shirley smiled with a loose salute.

Seeing that now was as good a time as any to get herself dressed as well, Shirley sought out the uniform Agnes had acquired the previous day. Finding it on the far end of Henrietta's desk furthest from the bed, she ruffled through the set. Realizing that the set did not come with undergarments, Shirley became increasingly aware of the draft between her legs and how naked it made her feel. After looking over the surrounding area she couldn't find the basket that contained her old clothes.

"Er...Henrietta? Where are my old clothes?"

"Oh? A servant took all the laundry to be cleaned earlier, why?" Henrietta tilted her head back to look at Shirley.

"Well...no panties...," Shirley blushed.

Henrietta and Agnes blinked, somehow not believing Shirley could blush.

"You and I are about the same size," Henrietta furrowed her brow and gave a sympathetic smile and pointed to the bureau across the room, "second drawer from the top."

"Th-thanks, I appreciate it," Shirley let out a nervous laugh.

Henrietta once more began to brush her hair as Shirley set about rifling through the drawer for a pair of underwear. At least she intended to brush her hair before she realized she had forgotten what she kept in that drawer under the clothing.

"AH! One moment Shirley..."

"Oh my! I applaud your sense of taste, but perhaps you indulge too much?" Shirley questioned cheerfully.

Henrietta felt her face begin to burn in embarrassment as she turned to see Shirley leafing through one of the more extreme erotic novellas in her rather...extensive collection.

Agnes fell to her knees, her image of an innocent Princess Henrietta shattered completely.

* * *

><p>Shirley tugged absently at the collar of her uniform. It was stiff and rough compared to her well worn Liberion uniform. She also wasn't sure if she could ever come to like the brightness of the colors, even the naval whites and blues worn by a lot of Fuso witches didn't quite become as jarringly bright ones she wore. Shirley couldn't help but sigh.<p>

_'This must be their parade uniform or something. As ground forces these can't be practical,'_ she thought.

She currently kept in step with Agnes who after the eventful morning had decided that none of it ever happened. The Chevalier led her through the castle, introducing her to random commoner staff they met as a new recruit along the way. They made it to the parade grounds where Shirley crash landed the previous day without incident and to Agnes's relief, without meeting a single noble. Shirley slowed her pace when she couldn't find the scars her arrival created.

"Oh...right, magic, they can do that here," Shirley stopped as the idea hit her.

"And it's damned expensive," Agnes gave Shirley a flat stare.

Agnes let out a weak sigh and motioned towards a rather small, single story building. It stood out in the midst of the clean, smooth stone structures common on castle grounds by being constructed using roughly hewn wood, whitewashed in an attempt to match the surrounding structures.

_'By hand rather than magic no doubt.'_

Shirley stopped outside the entrance instead of following Agnes inside, taking a moment to inspect a carved and painted placard hanging about the doorway. A wooden heater shield, emblazoned with the fleur-de-lis with a pair of muskets crossed in front of it. Steeling herself, Shirley pushes through the slowly closing door, latching it behind her.

The inside of the building was split in two, with a partitioned area near the rear dedicated to a series of bunks and footlockers and a larger common area dominated by a large rectangular center table with long benches on each of the longer sides. Unlike the castle itself, there were no magical sconces or lamps. The room was instead lit by natural sunlight during the day and Shirley noticed several lanterns tucked away in various strategic spots such as near the bunks, the door, and

at the foot of one of the benches.

"Well, this is what passes for the Musket Corps Headquarters...as well as the barracks...and armory...and mess hall...," Agnes rather unenthusiastically listed off the functions of the building, counting each of on the fingers of the right hand.

"Ah, I see," Shirley couldn't help but feel underwhelmed as well as an odd sense of pity.

"Anyway, some introductions are in or...der...Sergeant, where is everyone?"

There were only three people aside from Shirley and Agnes that occupied the common area and only one other curled up in a ball in the bunk area. At the table, three women were seated with two currently engaged in what looked like tarot card reading to Shirley while the third sat further down the table, grinding away at something inside a mortar and pestle. The woman that seemed to be receiving the tarot reading looked up, revealing a bored and tired expression.

"Oh? Captain, where have you been? That bastard Viscount showed up last night and served us all orders from higher up. We've basically had the entire Corps gutted, what you see is all that is left," the Sergeant waved her left hand in a mocking grand gesture at her fellows in the partitioned rooms, while leaning her chin into her right hand.

"WHAT!? WHY?" Agnes's face flushed in fury.

"Budget apparently. The lucky ones were either simply dismissed or placed into a pikeman company or something. Others, well, a few were unfortunate enough to be taken as aides to some jerk nobles, poor girls have no clue what could happen," the woman giving the tarot reading piped up.

"Th-this is an outrage, under whose authority were those orders given?" Agnes asked, forcing herself to calm down.

"Don't know who exactly started it, but it seems it was a consensus rather than a single authority since we don't fall directly under anyone. They did get a royal go-ahead though, so we couldn't refute it," the Sergeant shrugged.

Agnes simply stood in place, her mouth moving yet not a word escaped it. Gritting her teeth, she turned on her heel and slammed a fist into the door frame, letting out a grunt of frustration before storming out the door. Shirley was left in shock at the quick succession of events.

"Uh...um...," Shirley gulped nervously.

The talk of budget cuts reminded her of Agnes's offhand comment about how expensive the repairs to the courtyard and barrier were, and how she had caused it. She shifted in place in discomfort.

"So, you're the Princess's new buddy eh? Almost didn't recognize you in that uniform," the Sergeant stood from her seat and walked towards Shirley, giving her an appraising look.

Thinking back at her arrival, Shirley attempted to remember whether she seen this woman before. Almost immediately it came to her, and she froze in place.

_'Crap, SHE'S the one that had the musket in my face.'_

Seeing Shirley's distress, the Sergeant gave an amused smirk.

"Easy there, we're not holding anything against you or anything like that. In fact, we know you're just an unfortunate 'victim' of circumstance. Also, don't worry about that either, the Musketeers are rather loyal to the Princess, her and your secret is safe even with the ones that left," the Sergeant placed a hand on Shirley's shoulder, playfully shaking it back and forth.

The Sergeant was about a head taller than Shirley, with lean and rough features. Her deep brown hair was cut in a manner similar to Agnes's, yet kept more neatly trimmed. Matching brown eyes shone a glimmer of humor that softened her normally bored and slightly severe look.

"Ah, oh, thanks? Name's Shirley by the way," Shirley's cheeks lightly flushed, still uncomfortable.

"Shirley, huh? Certainly not a name you'd hear around here. I'm Sergeant Francoise, second to Captain Agnes," Francoise turned so that her right said faced the table, "the one with the cards is Private Vera."

"Yo," Vera lifted a hand and wriggled the fingers cheerfully in greeting when she heard her name.

Vera was a rather small, lithe woman. She kept her strawberry blonde hair braided and weaved back into a bun, with blue eyes shining with youth.

"The quiet one is our medic, Corporal Silvia. She's not very talkative, but she's great at what she does,"Silvia ignored them in favor of her continued grinding of her mortar.

The group's medic, Silvia, had a full figure, an ample bust and wide hips. Every movement was fluid and silent. She had a lighter shade of brown hair than the Sergeant, kept tied off oddly in a pony tail on the left side of her head. Her hazel eyes were cold.

Apparently whatever Silvia was doing was deemed complete as she poured the ground up sludge into a cup of water and mixed. With a nod she stood and made her way to the partitioned bunks.

"O-oh, Silvia, w-what is it? That isn't...no...please not that...AAAAUUGH *cough*," a voice was heard in protest as Silvia forced the mixture down the throat of the woman on the bunk.

"...and that would be Private Alice, she's got a sort of weak constitution and gets sick easily, but she's one hell of a marksman."

Alice, finally accepting the apparently vile concoction Silvia forced upon her, groaned as she slowly pulled up a blanket to hide herself. Similar in stature to Vera, Alice was also rather petite, though by Francoise's testimony it may have been due to her constantly fluctuating health rather than nature of her growth. Her shoulder length hair was a deep red and was cut in a fashion similar to what Shirley identified as a Fuso style known as the 'Hime-cut'. She currently peeked out from under the covers at Silvia with bright green eyes, seemingly plotting against the medic for foisting the mixture into her.

"Say, since you're going to be a musketeer from now on, why don't we see how you handle a musket," Francoise once more clapped her hand on Shirley's shoulder, this time pushing her towards the door without waiting for a response.

"Oh oh, I'm want to watch!" Vera jumped out of her seat and followed behind.

Silvia, having finished cleaning up her area decided Alice needed fresh air, effortlessly picking up the struggling and cursing woman, blanket and all, trailing behind the others.

BREAK

It took a couple minutes for Shirley's mind to finally catch up with everything that had gone on around her. Blinking idly, she found that she had been placed beside a small table behind the Musketeer HQ. On the table were a series of three flintlock pistols and three full sized muskets.

"Alright, they're all loaded for you, that makes three shots for pistol and musket each. Those are your targets, lets see what you can do," Francoise pointed first to the table and then to a series of straw-man targets in a field that ended in a high berm that would catch stray musket balls.

_'Hmm, 50 yards? That's it? Just what kind of standards do they have here? Even if these are unrifled muskets...,'_ Shirley huffed in disappointment, _'heh, I bet they'll piss themselves when they see what a firearm can do in the hands of a Witch augmenting it.'_

Shirley reached for the closest pistol. As soon as her hand completely grasped the grip a feeling not unlike a jolt of electricity shot through her body as an extremely odd sense of familiarity overcame her, as if the flintlock was something she knew intimately and used her entire life. The shock and surprise caused her to drop the pistol, earning her confused looks from the musketeers.

_'That...was a thing...'_

Hesitantly, she grasped the flintlock again in her right hand. This time her left hand burned faintly where her runes were inscribed, though they remained faint and hidden. Once more the feelings of familiarity washed over her.

_'Is this...this isn't MY magic, but it's magic non-the-less. Seems harmless enough though. Well, lets give them a show.'_

Taking advantage of the mystery magical augmentation, she handled the flintlock expertly. Using one hand Shirley aimed at a straw target, allowing her own magic to flow her animal traits appeared causing her audience to step back in surprise. Vera was about to call Shirley out on it when she was interrupted by an abnormally loud bang from the flintlock.

"THE FUCK WAS THAT?" Vera exclaimed, her attention now down range.

Francoise simply whistled in appreciation of the carnage Shirley's shot exacted on the target and a sizable bit of the berm behind it.

"I believe a flintlock shouldn't make a hole in the ground a culverin would make," Alice drawn her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Just how did you do that? You're not a mage are you?" Francoise asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shirley thought a moment. Certainly she had magic, that much should have been obvious, but she wouldn't consider herself a mage in the same sense as the ones found in Halkegenia.

"You sure she's even human? I mean, check these out!" Vera's attention once again was drawn to Shirley's rabbit ears and tail.

Vera's curiosity prompted her to tug at the fluffy white tail that peeked out of the split tail of the uniform's coat.

"Awhn...," Shirley slapped at Vera's hand, "you can look, but you can't touch...unless you take me out to dinner first, but even then, not on the first date."

"Eh?" Vera blushed as Francoise held back a chuckle.

The Sergeant patted Vera's arm with the back of her hand and coughed into the fist of the other hand.

"Anyway, you put on quite a show there. I seems you can handle yourself with a firearm at least, no need to blow up any more dummies. However, you will be the one to rebuild the one you obliterated and fill in the hole you made. So, get to it, if you don't hurry you'll be late to lunch," Francoise shooed the other musketeers away.

"Ah, but she hasn't expl-," Vera found Francoise's foot grinding into her own.

"Another time, Private, get moving. She has work to do," the Sergeant scolded.

As the others disappeared around the corner of the Headquarters, Francoise stopped to look back and Shirley who was studying the now empty flintlock.

"Oh, and be sure to put those away...I mean those furry bits as well as those guns."

"R-right!" Shirley responded sheepishly.

* * *

><p>Shirley made swift progress in her cleanup efforts. Having already filled in the hole, she busied herself with tying rope and canvas around the straw she had to gather from the remains of the old target dummy. As she worked she let her mind wander. It didn't wander far as she soon found herself recollecting on thoughts about the strange magic that was effecting her, as well as her own dwindling magic. Or at least it was dwindling.<p>

_'Just what is happening to me?'_

The magic that was at work when she handled the pistol felt more like a curse or enchantment from an outside source, like she was drawing off of something...or maybe someone...else. Furthermore, when she activated her own magic she found that it came to her much too easily and took more effort to make it subside. With her age and how much she siphoned off her own energy as a Strike Witch for much of her magically active life, this shouldn't be.

_'It's as if simply breathing is enough. As nice as this is, it's wrong. So wrong.'_

For the past half hour while she worked she had repeatedly used her unique ability to speed her progress. Normally she'd feel the drain, and then the feeling would slowly subside. However, rather than feeling the usual tug at her personal energy, she felt like a hole in her chest was pulling in something from the outside each time she allowed her magic to flow. It felt wonderful. It made her feel young.

She finished tying the final knot and jammed the straw-man into the ground in an identical fashion as its companions. Shielding her eyes, she looked skyward to ascertain the time. On cue, her stomach growled.

_'Such timing.'_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So I realized I made one hell of a plot hole in chapter 1, so I did a bit of editing.

Shirley couldn't remember a meal as awkward as the one she had to partake with the musketeers. Vera's curiosity persisted even with her mouth stuffed and Silvia having to repeatedly rescue the excitable woman from choking. Alice gave the Witch a flat stare as she nursed a chunk of bread and water, occasionally grimacing while clutching at her stomach. The Sergeant, despite the fuss from Vera and Silvia, was more or less dead to the world. She cradled her head in her arms, with her face pressed against the table. Around her were several bottles of wine. Empty bottles.

"Is that normal?" Shirley asked, jabbing a thumb towards Francoise.

"No, when we came inside she started going on about how she's been overworked lately...I think she thinks she was hallucinating," Alice responded.

"Huh, and I thought you had the worst reaction," Shirley flicked Vera's forehead, causing the smaller woman to yip in surprise.

With the momentary relief from Vera's excited questioning, the Witch swiped an apple from Vera's share of food.

"HEY!"

"Consider it compensation for your pestering. I'll allow one more question, I' take something else for each question after," Shirley smirked at Vera's pout.

"Meanie...well then," Vera began to fidget in place, "c-can I...touch them?"

"Uh, what?"

"Y-your ears...," Vera blushed.

"My ears? Why would? Ooooh, my ears...fine," Shirley sighed, allowing her animal ears to sprout.

Vera squealed in delight as she all but pounced on Shirley, rubbing and petting the rabbit ears. Shirley merely shrugged in mock defeat when Silvia and Alice had a laugh at her expense. Alice unfortunately couldn't handle the laughter, her stomach finally deciding to rebel against her. She ran out the front door, gagging as she made a vain attempt at keeping what little she had for lunch down. Silvia let out a silent sigh as she got up to follow the ailing musketeer, leaving Shirley with Vera and a sleeping Francoise.

"So...I haven't seen Agnes for a while. Any idea what she is up to?" Shirley asked in an awkward attempt at conversation.

Vera ceased her petting to consider the question. Placing a hand on her chin in thought, she hummed as she came to a conclusion.

"Well, she was absolutely pissed when she left. Most likely to confront one of the higher ups about the orders. Aaand, since she isn't back yet she most likely did not get an answer she liked. She's probably venting at the kennel," Vera nodded as she finished.

"Kennel? You guys keep dogs?" Shirley raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, they're very useful when we are on guard or policing duty...they're also very cute. Agnes seems to really like this one dog there, I forgot what he is, but he's really big and fluffy," Vera resumed her fondling of the Witch's ears.

"Huh, where's the kennel, I think I'll see if I can check up on her. I still feel kind of responsible for everything that happened."

Vera whined as Shirley stood, but finally relented at the withdrawal of the rabbit ears.

"Behind the stables. Keep going straight from here, passed the guardhouse of the south gate. You can't really miss it," Vera said, visibly deflating at the lack of fluffiness.

"Thanks, take care of the Sergeant won't ya?" Shirley waved as she made her exit.

* * *

><p>It really was as easy to find as Vera said. The courtyards of the castle seemed to be very structured and planned. Shirley was confident that even without directions she could have found the kennels without getting lost for long.<p>

"Well, here it is. Let's see if Agnes is around," she mumbled to herself, hands on her hips and taking in the surroundings.

The kennels were relatively large compared to the Musketeer barracks. The overall craftsmanship was greater as well, with a stone framework with neatly cut woodwork.

_'Figures, the animals are treated better than the commoners.'_

The barks and yips of various species of dog welcomed her as she circled around to the entrance. She took a few seconds to observe some of the animals that were kept outside. Various hunting dogs in partitioned fencing as well as smaller, more exotic types kept in a 'free roaming' fenced area. No doubt these were owned by individual nobles that lived within the castle grounds. Finally entering the kennel, she found it to be rather quiet. The animals housed within seemed to be content with sleeping, some burdened with unborn litters, a few others muzzled and chained.

Shirley stepped lightly as she wandered, deciding against calling out to Agnes. She would rather not have the entire kennel excited and barking at her. Turning a corner, Shirley finally finds Agnes. The woman in question didn't notice Shirley right away, seemingly preoccupied with brushing the dog that rivaled her in size.

The dog was rather huge. If it were standing it's back would reach Shirley's waist. It was solidly built, with strong muscles that rippled beneath a dense fuzzy layer of black and white fur. It's tail curved upwards naturally and happily wagged back and forth, it's ears twitching as well.

_'Huh, looks like a really big Husky...doubt it's native to the area,'_ Shirley noted.

The 'husky' seemed to have noticed Shirley already, lazily opening an eye, grunting, then closing it again. The token acknowledgment Shirley received caused Agnes to be pulled from her thoughts long enough to notice as well.

"Ah, Shirley...," she said, voice dull and worn out.

"Um, you weren't back for lunch. So I kinda worried about you," Shirley rubbed at the back of her neck, "is...everything alright? You seem kind of off right now."

Agnes lowered the brush she held and gave Shirley a sidelong glance.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she stated, once again her voice sounding weak.

Shirley furrowed her brow. This was not the forceful and headstrong Agnes from last night. Tilting her head, Shirley attempted to get a better look at the Captain's face. It seemed haggard and her eyes red and puffy.

"Agnes? Were you...crying?" Shirley asked.

"No, I wasn't...," Agnes avoided Shirley's eyes.

"Come on. Sure, we just met yesterday, but you can trust me. And I know I've been teasing you a lot, but I don't want to see you hurt."

"I'm fine, damnit, just...," the musketeer leaned closer to the 'husky'.

"Agnes...," Shirley gave her an annoyed glare.

Realizing the familiar won't be leaving and would press the issue, Agnes snapped her gaze to her, giving her a pained look. Her eyes tearing up, threatening to humiliate her in front of the foreigner.

"A-agnes?"

"Th-they're taking everything I've worked so hard for away! They're slowly dismantling the Corps! They're keeping the Princess locked up in a damned gilded cage! I...I...I'm not alright, okay?" The 'husky' whined, nuzzling against Agnes's neck after her outburst.

"I'm sorry," was all Shirley could say.

An awkward silence fell upon them, only occasionally interrupted by a sniffle from Agnes or Shirley shuffling idly in place. Minutes passed before Shirley felt she had to break the silence.

"Um...who is this?" She knelt before the musketeer and the 'husky'.

Agnes was caught off guard at the sudden shift in mood. Giving a weak smile she scratched affectionately behind the 'husky''s ears.

"His name is Valiant. He's a Husky from northern Germania," she said, lightly hugging the giant fluff ball.

_'So animals are not only similar, but share names too?'_

"Is he yours?" Shirley asks.

Agnes lets out a giggle as Valiant licked her cheek, the dog happy to see her change in demeanor.

"Raised him from a puppy actually," Agnes now smiled freely.

The women once more went silent, but this time they were comfortably content in lavishing affection on the massive husky. Shirley couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. It reminded her of the rabbit she fed on base back in Liberion when she was still young and in training. The rabbit would later become her familiar spirit when she finally gained full control of magic. Yet this familiarity was what one would feel when they see something of their own in someone else. She wondered, if Agnes had lived another life with Valiant. Would she have been a witch as well?

* * *

><p>"Agnes! I'm so sorry!" A crying Henrietta threw her arms around the panicking knight.<p>

Agnes and Shirley spent the remainder of the day in the kennel, making small talk. When they realized the time they opted to simply return to Henrietta's room since they've missed dinner and neither felt like facing the musketeers at the moment. The ambush conducted by the apologetic princess caught the duo off guard. Shirley alternated looking at the princess and the knight, mildly amused but mostly confused. Agnes for her part, mostly froze in place.

"P-princess? What are you talking about?" Agnes pulled the clinging woman off herself.

With watery eyes, Henrietta began to chew on the end of her sleeve.

"I couldn't convince them to not touch the Musketeers. I know how much you care about them and I let you down," she sniffled, "I'm so sorry."

Agnes couldn't help but give the crying woman a weak smile.

"Please, your Highness, the nobles would have found a reason sooner or later and your parents wouldn't be able to deny so many even if they wished to. So please, no one blames you and you have nothing to be sorry for. You tried, that's all that matters right?"

Agnes's affirmations seemed to lift Henrietta's spirits, if only a little, earning a smile that mirrored the knight's. The princess then slowly wrapped her arms around Agnes's chest, once again sending the knight into a panic.

"Oh come on, just return the hug. Damn prude," Shirley huffed and slapped Agnes on the back before stepping passed into the bedroom.

Slowly, Agnes returned Henrietta's hug in a painfully awkward manner, by lightly bringing her hands to the princess's shoulder blades and resting her chin on her shoulder.

_'Aww, what I wouldn't give for a camera,'_ Shirley thought.

"I don't really want to interrupt this touching moment, but, do you have to do it in the hallway?" The Liberion laughed.

Knight and Princess flushed, separating with lightning speed.

Once inside, the three women separated to perform their final tasks of the day before finally winding down for the night. Agnes changed into her 'casual' clothes using the bed as a sort of privacy curtain, still uncomfortable changing and sleeping in the same room as the princess. The princess once more took her seat at her desk, completing paperwork tasked to her by her parents, some of which had to do with the musketeer's budget, much to her and Agnes's annoyance. Shirley sat with her back against the wall on the floor between the bed and desk, disassembling and cleaning her treasured pistol.

"So, I'm thinking we all should go out into the city. I think Shirley should be shown around and I could really do for a change of scenery," Henrietta absently said, not looking up from her work.

Agnes stubbed her toe while attempting to put on her pants when she heard the princess's rather blunt statement.

"Y-your Highness, you know your parents won't allow it!" Agnes hissed as she rubbed her aching foot.

"I know, that's why we'll sneak out, you, me, and Shirley," she responded, looking at Agnes with a smile.

"B-but..."

"No buts. We're going," Henrietta interrupted, causing Shirley to snort in amusement.

Agnes blinked, unable to form a counter for Henrietta's blunt and forceful stance.

"F-fine...but she has to wear pants, I will NOT have her wandering around like that in the city!" Anges conceded.

Shirley perked up, looking to Henrietta in panic.

"Sure. Shirley, you're wearing pants, that's a direct order," the princess giggled.

The witch deflated, not liking the idea of confining, itchy, and hot pants. Henrietta stretched her arms behind her head and yawned.

"Well, if we're going to be able to sneak out, we'll need to get up early in the morning. We should go to bed," Henrietta said as she stumbled to her bed, falling face first into it before crawling into position.

"Are you really that childish your Highness? At least you didn't jump into bed," Agnes sighed.

The knight took her place on Henrietta's left, leaning on her elbows she looked over at the still sitting Shirley.

"You coming to bed?" She asked.

"Ah, don't mind me, I just have to put this back together," Shirley waved the handgrip of her pistol for emphasis, causing Agnes to shrug.

It didn't take long for Shirley to hear the obnoxious snoring of the princess and the puff of a pillow wrapping around Agnes's head to block it out.

_'Those two...,'_ Shirley shook her head with a smile.

Having reassembled her pistol, she remembered the oddness that accompanied the flintlocks and muskets she held earlier that day. Holding the pistol in a ready position she took aim at the wall in front of her. Sure enough a foreign feeling of familiarity flowed through her, though this time it was extremely faint. If she hadn't felt it before, she most likely wouldn't have noticed. Placing the pistol in its holster she then set out to find Agnes's flintlock she carried with her at all times. She found it in the corner on Agnes's side of the bed. Quietly she pulled it from it's holster. A shock similar to what she felt before hit her followed by a stronger wave. She was certain that she could wield it just as well as she could her own modern pistol.

_'I'm going to figure this out. Does it have to do with familiarity with guns? I used the M1911 almost religiously but I've only used the flintlock today.'_

Replacing the flintlock she notices Agnes's saber. Shirley recognized that it was of the fencing sort rather than a cavalry saber thanks to Perrine's sparring with Mio. During her later years with the 501st, they would spar with blades on slow nights, using different weapons than they'd normally use simply for variety. Shirley narrowed her eyes at the saber. Curiously she reached out to it, brushing gently at the hilt.

The jolt she received was unlike what she'd felt with the flintlock or muskets, this one was massive. It was strong enough that it allowed her to notice more sensations she had missed before but in hindsight seemed obvious. First, the feeling itself was pleasurable, warm and comforting. Second, was something that disturbed her, it wasn't actually a sense of familiarity she felt but rather a surge of knowledge. The knowledge seemed like what you'd learn from years of training. Though it seemed what she received was only how Perrine or Mio would use the saber, rather than any particular style or school.

She slowly retracted her shaking hand from the hilt, the surge of energy and knowledge slowly slipping away as she did so. Looking at her hand that touched the sword, her left hand, she finally noticed that the runes marking her as Henrietta's familiar glowed brightly, though they were slowly fading with the sensations.

_'This is fucked up, cool, but fucked up...'_


End file.
